Like every Sunday Roberto (Ganga, as always, to his friends) to tie a handkerchief around his neck. Rossoblù a handkerchief. He could do that gesture even in sleep, even in death, but as always, he did it in the mirror.
reached out and without looking at his right and found the hat on the dresser that stood on his head. Rossoblù a hat.
Then he looked at his watch. It was second on Sunday, neither early nor late.
Ganga left the house without saying goodbye to anyone because Ganga lived alone and did not even have a cat, to say hello. He went down the stairs, jumping, came out of the door, walked around the corner of the house, lifted the garage door, brought out scooter, put on his helmet (a helmet rossoblù), closed the garage, climbed up on the motor and, as she did when she was a Sunday and a memory no (more or less), apart from the summer break of the championship, he left for the stage.
Ganga knew what to do when he got up from the table after lunch when he sat down to "her" place in the curve (since he was always the memory), the succession of his GISTI join a ritual absolutely immutable. He could also perform them sleep. Even in death.
Ganga came close to the stadium with the motor (that is, the motor was changed over the years, and before there was the bicycle), did pass the chain through the wheel and the chin of the helmet, he closed with a padlock around the two ends of a pole to signal one way (if that) and then he would walk on foot to a bar. He took the coffee, paid, and mingling in the crowd (crowd once more, actually) he would walk to the bathroom and, instead of going down the toilet, left the back door into a courtyard behind the bar. Climbed over the fence and found himself inside the stadium. There had only to reach his place, still the same, and wait for the game.
Taking all the guesswork as possible, mentally going over formations and patterns of play, imagining a prediction, in short, thinking that the game would begin shortly thereafter and above his team. The team for which he lived. The Bologna. Which, moreover, did almost every moment of every day. Were working or making love, was in the shower or working on a videogame. Even
that Sunday did so: he entered the bar, took the coffee came from the back, climbed over the wall, he found the place and sat down.
then waited for the game, a game that would never be played, as they did 10 years since the government following the recent dramatic clashes of Turin, had forbidden all over the country the game of football.
Lucio Mazzi
